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“You are the most insubordinate soldier I have ever had the displeasure of working with!”
Nates eyes roll all but back into his skull, middle finger tapping against the table as he gnaws on the end of a stale cigarette.
He just ‘completed’ his third assignment and he’s already getting yelled at- that’s definitely some kind of record. “Yeah? Well, if I’m so ‘insubordinate’, why don’t you just kick me to the Commonwealth and find someone more qualified to uphold you and your ‘Brotherhood’s’ shitty ideals?”
Danse sighs heavily, dragging a hand down his face. The frown lines between his brows are extremely prominent, though Nate guarantees that his own brow is fairing no different. “Look, I won’t lie to you: you show potential- more than I have seen from the average wanderer. You have what it takes to become a powerful asset to the Brotherhood of Steel if you had your priorities in order.”
“Priorities? Priorities?!” Nate gawks, the cigarette sticking to his lower lip thanks to the moisture of his mouth. “My priorities are the people of the Commonwealth! That includes ghouls!”
If Danse wasn’t already standing, he would’ve thrown a chair backwards in his haste to do so. “Ghouls are not people, soldier! They are nothing more than an abomination upon this Earth and we as the Brotherhood stand to-”
Nate, however, is sitting, so when his hand comes down on the table, using it to stand, successfully cutting Danse’s righteous little speech off before it could really get started, his chair does get knocked backwards. “You and your Brotherhood can go fuck off, then! If this is what you believe in, I want no part of it. I thought you were for the people, but if you think your Brotherhood has the right to decide who or what classifies as ‘people’, then that’s no Brotherhood I want to be part of.”
Danse’s hand comes down on the table next. “Trust me, we would be better off without someone like you.”
“Oh! Oh, really? So much for all my potential, huh?!”
“Yes,” Danse grounds through clenched teeth, glaring daggers at the man before him, “so much for ‘all your potential’. It seems I misjudged your sensibilities.”
Nate barks out a laugh, the stalest and fakest sound he’s ever made in his life, and spits the cigarette onto the table. “No, it seems like I misjudged yours. I thought you guys were something great. Serves me right for making mindless assumptions off of rumors.”
Nate bends at his waist, grabbing the back of the chair and setting it upright next to him when a huge, heavy hand is suddenly tangled in the front of his shirt. Nate grabs the wrist, fingers sliding off the metal, sneering hard at his assaulter as he trips over his own feet, getting pushed backwards until he comes into contact with the broken concrete wall of the decrepit police station they’re holed up in.
“I must ask you to reconsider,” Danse growls in Nate’s face, grip firm through Nate’s struggling and futile attempts to claw him off. “I will not ask you again. Your skills will be instrumental to the Brotherhood. You will regret turning down this offer, as the opportunity to become part of us will never arise again. I can guarantee that much.”
“Good,” drawls Nate, mouth cocking up into a smirk. “Like I would ever want to be anything with you self-righteous assholes.”
Danse’s hold doesn’t falter, though Nate does catch a slight twitch in his brow. Danse isn’t holding him too far up the wall, and if Nate really tried, he could break free from the hold and waltz himself out of the station if he so desired, but he really didn’t. By the fact that Danse still has a hold of him, Nate can tell there’s more to the interaction than Danse let on. The guy has a surprisingly good poker face, though when Nate starts to pay attention, he can catch the flick of Danse’s eyes dancing over his face.
Nate quirks a brow and follows by example, actually taking a moment to take in the features of the man manhandling him. Danse is ruggedly handsome, Nate admits to himself, and that scar over his right eye definitely isn’t helping any. There’s a weird kind of tension in the air- one that Nate can practically taste, and it only gets thicker as the silence stretches on.
Nate wets his lips, suspicions only confirmed when Danse’s eyes track the movement, a brief glance that Nate would’ve missed had he blinked at that moment. The smirk returns, though for a completely different reason this time. “So. You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’, big boy?”
Danse’s brows twitch again, that lost, angry look appearing on his face once more. “Regrettably, I believe I am. As much as I want to throw you back into the Commonwealth, there is undeniably something about you that intrigues me.”
Nate taps his fingernails against the husk of Danse’s power armor. “Why don’t you get out of this hunk of metal and we go somewhere a little more private, yeah?”
“There is nowhere ‘private’ in this police station. Haylen and Rhys will always be within hearing distance, no matter which room we’re in.”
Nate clicks his tongue, glancing at the wall closest to the station lobby. “Is that an issue to you?”
“Only because I do not want those under my command to be subjected to what is about to occur,” Danse mumbles, fingers untangling from Nate’s shirt before he steps back. He watches Nate stumble, unprepared for the two-foot drop Danse subjected him to, and matches the steely look thrown his way with ease. “Wait for me in the custody suite. I will be there momentarily.” He scans Nate’s appearance before giving him a pointed look. “Preferably with less clothing.”
“Roger that,” Nate quips and struggles to keep face after the annoyed look Danse throws his way. Nate makes his way leisurely to the next room, taking a second to listen to whatever bullshit excuse Danse was conjuring to get his two subordinates to leave the station.
“Haylen, Rhys,” Danse rattles, earning two sharp ‘Sir!’s in response. “Patrol the perimeter while I have a chat with our Wastelander.”
“Are you still trying to convince him to join, sir?” Haylen questions, sounding genuinely confused. Nate would be as well, in her shoes. There was no doubt they heard the entire conversation from a mere room away. “He made it pretty clear that his ideals are the exact opposite of those of the Brotherhood.”
“Yeah, it sounded like the conversation was over anyway,” Rhys snarks, and just the sound of his voice alone makes Nate want to deck him in the face.
“Don’t worry, once I’m through with him, he’ll be a part of the Brotherhood. I assure of it.”
Something about the way Danse says it sends a shiver down Nate’s back, and he hurries to the custody suite, rushing to shuck off his overcoat and shirt, at the least. He ends up getting his coat, shirt, and one boot off by the time Danse returns to him, surprisingly without his power armor on, and damn is he more attractive than Nate expected him to be. The orange jumpsuit he’s in leaves nothing to imagination, hugging every inch of him and yes, Nate does mean every inch.
He also ditched that weird-ass hood he was wearing with the armor, revealing the fluffy hair underneath, and he’s carrying a rolled sleeping bag under one arm.
Nate kicks his other boot off, placing his hands on his hips, watching Danse’s expression closely as he presents himself in a not-so-discreet way. “So, Paladin, how do you plan on ensuring my further attendance with the Brotherhood?”
“My method is simple, Initiate,” Danse snaps, raising his hand to drag the zipper of his uniform down at a languid pace as he walks past. “If you remain with the Brotherhood, we will be able to do this again.”
Nate takes a moment to laugh, popping the button on his jeans with a quick flick of his fingers, though Danse has clearly missed the humor of his words, bending down to fluff out the sleeping bag on the concrete floor. “What makes you think I’m going to want to do this again?”
The zipper rests a little over halfway down Danse’s chest, parted only a sliver from the top down, but Nate can see the brush of chest hair underneath it. “Trust me,” he says as he approaches, reaching out to brush his fingertips over Nate’s inner wrist. “You will.”
Nate barely has time to react as Danse effortlessly spins him around, and Nate yelps as he feels the sudden cold bite of a pair of handcuffs snapping around one wrist. “Whoa, hey, wait a seco--!”
Danse gives Nate a hard shove, and Nate stumbles, crashing, luckily, onto the sleeping bag. Nate flips onto his shoulder and brings his cuffed hand around to his chest, grabbing it with his free hand and a grunt, fruitlessly trying to jimmy it loose. “What the fuck are you--”
Danse grabs Nate by his ankles, knocking him further onto his back and, before Nate can react, straddles his hips to grab his hands. He squirms, valiantly trying to keep Danse off of him, but it’s no use: despite the fight that Nate puts up, Danse brings Nate’s hands over his head, slipping one of them through the cell bars, and Nate growls as his free hand gets cuffed as well. Instantly, Nate brings his hands up before bringing his elbows towards his chest as hard as he can, attempting to snap the chain holding the cuffs together and break himself free. As expected, it doesn’t work. “I didn’t expect you to be the kinky type,” Nate huffs, watching Danse stand and step back.
“I do what is necessary. In this case, it is necessary that you remain still.”
“Jokes on you if you think these things will keep me ‘still’, big boy.”
“You may squirm as much as you are able,” Danse continues, kicking at the sleeping bag, and when Nate lifts his weight to allow the bedroll to slide more comfortably underneath him, the Paladin looks appreciative. “I don’t want you doing anything fancy.”
Nate snorts, “Oh, dominate me, big boy. Show me a good time.”
“Don’t worry,” deadpans Danse above him, unzipping his uniform the rest of the way, “I will.”
The uniform hits the floor with the sound of crumpling fabric and a metallic crack. Nate allows his greedy eyes to scan the entirely of Danse’s revealed frame: he’s built, with a healthy amount of muscle mass and just enough weight to balance it all out. Nate, unfortunately, could not say the same about his own body- he hasn’t been awake long enough to burn off the bit of pre-war fat he had accumulated over the brief months of peace and fatherhood. However, Nate could easily say that he’s comfortable in his own body, but the way that Danse holds himself, fully undressed aside from a pair of white briefs clinging to his hips, tells Nate that Danse isn’t so lucky.
Nate lets out a slow, teasing whistle, dragging it out as long as he could before Danse’s expression went from confused to mildly embarrassed and back again. “What a hunk.”
Danse says nothing in response, stepping over Nate to bestride him.
“The view from down here is incredible,” Nate continues as Danse lowers himself onto Nate’s thighs, fingers coming up to pull down Nate’s fly, making quick work of taking them off of Nate, all but ripping them down his legs. “Whoa, slow down there, big boy. I just got these jeans, like, yesterday.”
“The Commonwealth is full of people who dress in poor taste,” Danse responds, and Nate narrows his eyes with a pout. “You’ll find a replacement in no time.”
“You’re one to talk. That uniform is ugly as hell. Just another reason why I won’t be staying with the Brotherhhhhohh whoa-!”
Danse continues to grind the heel of his palm against Nate’s groin, piquing his dick’s interest immediately. “You talk a lot, soldier. Perhaps we need to find a way to shut you up.”
Nate bucks up against Danse’s hand, the handcuffs jingling noisily above his head, as he stares at Danse with a raised brow. There’s a kind of air around him, and he wears a weird kind of constipated look that Nate can only pair to be one thing.
“Oh my god, no way,” Nate chuckles, using his hold on the bars to grind purposefully and forcefully up into Danse’s hand. “There’s no goddamn way you’re a virgin.”
Danse’s face twitches, almost in a flinch, and Nate’s jaw slacks as Danse’s face flushes. “No. Someone as handsome as you hasn’t gotten any? Not even from Haylen?”
“Scribe Haylen is a skilled soldier and someone I trust dearly,” Danse bites, and Nate stifles a snort at his sudden defensiveness. Nate can tell that there’s something between the two of them, whether it’s just military respect or mutual pining, but Danse’s response makes it sound like either there was an attempt at something, or Danse could never fathom being anything other than Haylen’s commanding officer.
If that’s the case, Nate feels sorry for Haylen. He’s a little more than sure that Haylen has some kind of crush on Danse, but it seems to be one-sided. Danse may come off as dense, but Nate finds that hard to believe in the present situation.
It’s probably a front, Nate determines when Danse makes no further moves. Self-awareness must’ve caught up to him, making him hesitate, realizing that he was about to lose his virginity to a stranger from the Commonwealth in what could-- what would ultimately end up as a one-night-stand.
Nate almost feels bad for him. Though, it wasn’t Nate’s idea to use handcuffs. That rests on Danse’s beefy shoulders.
“Hey, I don’t wanna pressure you or anything,” Nate begins, shifting his hips slightly, pressing up against Danse’s still hand, “but are we actually doin’ this thing, or did you cuff me like this just for shits? Cuz I think I was just about leaving-”
Nate jolts when Danse squeezes his length beneath the thin layer of fabric. His jeans are still tangled around his ankles, and Nate gives a few kicks in an attempt to wrangle them off, jostling Danse in the process. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t work, and Danse merely raises a brow at his efforts. “You lack patience, Initiate.”
“I’ve kinda got a kid to find,” Nate retorts, quirking a brow. “As fun as this is, I don’t really have the time to be messing around. So either uncuff me and let me go on my way, or let’s get this show on the road, eh, big boy?”
Danse’s fingers graze over his skin, and Nate’s stomach twitches on it’s own at the chill they bring. His fingernails ghost over the thin line of hair, pressing just the tips of his middle fingers under the hem of Nate’s briefs, tugging the fabric down lower and lower. Nate cants his hips, allowing Danse to pull them down, just low enough that Nate’s half-hard dick can spring free. He pretends not to notice the way Danse stares, almost as if fascinated, as he wraps his fingers, oh so gently, around the base. Nate flinches at the sudden touch, jerking up against Danse’s hand, and Danse’s other hand comes down to keep Nate’s hip pinned down.
“You’re no fun,” hisses Nate, pushing up against Danse’s hold, but the man simply pushes him down harder, keeping him still.
“‘Fun’ isn’t quite the objective here.”
Nate scoffs. “Right, right. All for the glory of your Brotherhood.” he rolls his hips, earning a slight squeeze from Danse that makes his hips jerk to a stop. “Tell me something, Danse: what do you plan to gain from this, huh? I’m not staying with your little band of sanctimonious asshats. If this isn’t fun for you, what is it? A means to an end? Some kind of reassurance that maybe I’ll find this enjoyable enough to stick around for a round two?”
Danse is silent for a moment- a moment Nate takes his sweet time appreciating- before he finally answers with, “Something like that, yes.”
Nate lets out a ‘pfft’. “Just accept the fact that that’s not going to happen and let yourself live a little, eh? At least let it be fun for the both of us. Besides,” Nate pulls himself up to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders, squinting his eyes at Danse’s pinched expression with a smirk, “when will you ever get the chance to do anything like this again?”
That seems to have done it, Nate concedes as Danse’s bravado falters before falling completely away, leaving only an insecure man in the hands of a capable wastelander with nothing to lose. “I wish you would reconsider,” Danse mumbles to himself as he draws his hands away from Nate completely, and for a second, Nate is filled with a strange kind of chill. Is Danse going to just leave him, high and dry like this?
This fear is only amplified when Danse gets up and walks away.
“Hey- hey, whoa! Hey, wait! Where are you going?” Nate cranes his neck to try and follow Danse on his way out of the room.
“Please give me a moment,” he replies without looking back, and then he’s gone. Nate sits there for a second, blinking at the ceiling before struggling against the handcuffs again. Gah, dammit, he went too far, he shouldn’t have riled Danse up like that- now Danse’s just gonna leave him here--
Nate’s arms are just beginning to hurt when Danse, as cool as ever, walks back into the room with… nothing? Nate cocks a brow as Danse walks beside him and just… stares down at him.
“You look good,” Danse says before Nate can say anything.
“What?”
“You look good,” he repeats, “cuffed like that and at my mercy.”
Oh, now the confidence comes out. Nate’s lips curl into a Cheshire grin, and he wiggles his hips a little to attract Danse’s attention to the thing in dire need of it. “A sight you could get used to, eh? You still have to hold up to your word of showing me a good time, you know.”
“And I will,” Danse says, and Nate licks his lips as Danse begins to pull down his own underwear.
“Ah, all business, I see,” Nate hums, drinking in the sight of a fully undressed Paladin Danse looming over him. He wishes he could snap a picture because hot damn is he going to miss this during his free time out in the Commonwealth. “It’s about time. Your associates are probably running out of perimeter to patrol.”
“I would hope they’re smart enough to stay out of the station until either they see you leave or I personally go to retrieve them,” Danse counters, lowering himself back onto Nate’s thighs and staring at something in his hand. A small bottle, and only when Danse squirts some onto his hand does Nate realize what it is.
“Wait, is that a bottle of lotion?”
“It’s intended use is to prevent chafing due to wearing power armor,” Danse rattles off, pressing one hand against Nate’s chest, lifting himself. Nate assumed that god-ugly uniform of theirs was all the insurance they needed, but that didn’t necessarily help against sweat. “I figured it was the best we had in terms of… lubrication.”
“It’s perfect.” Nate feels a little winded with Danse’s weight pressed into his solar plexus. Maybe he’ll swipe the bottle before he takes off-- knowing the world, he’s probably gonna need it.
Danse’s face is inches from him, contorted in concentration and a mild case of awkwardness, and Nate basks in it. Someone as prestigious and stern as Danse losing face and getting flustered is definitely something to look at, and Nate wants to be sure and memorize it all; especially since he knows he’s never going to see it again.
Ah, what a drag to think about. Never being able to see this side of Danse again? First lotion, and now this? Maybe he would stick with the Brotherhood after all. Even if they are self-centered assholes with very skewed morals and a sense of justice that made no sense. The Commonwealth is full of innocent ghouls just trying to get by like everyone else, and while Nate had nothing against taking out packs and packs of ferals, he wasn’t going to kill an innocent civilian.
He can’t say much about synths, though. He’s heard stories about the Institute replacing people with perfect replicas, and that’s not something Nate’s cool with, but it’s not like Nate would just automatically hate a synth. ‘If you’re cool with me, I’m cool with you’ is his motto, but it seems to be the exact opposite for the Brotherhood. ‘If you’re cool with me, I’m cool with you unless you’re a synth or a ghoul or a super mutant (which is understandable because Nate hasn’t met a super mutant he’s been cool with yet), because fuck you I hate you’ seems like the Brotherhood motto- and yes, Nate knows that the Brotherhood’s actual motto is ‘ad victoriam’ or whatever, but that’s not the point.
The point is that Danse is hot as fuck and Nate’s mad that he’s just as much of a blockhead as he appears to be, and even if he’s currently hunched over, fucking himself on his own damn fingers, looking mighty damn fine while doing so, that doesn’t mean that Nate’s just going to up and join a group of people he doesn’t get along with. He’s not that desperate to get some action, that’s for damn sure.
Above him, Danse lets out a soft grunt, a noise that catches Nate’s attention in more ways than one. His face is flushed a pretty shade of red, brows knit and eyes screwed shut. Nate fights back a smirk, biting his lip as he takes it all in. Lust is an emotion he hasn’t felt since emerging from the confines of his underground coffin- long enough that he forgot how addictive it is. The breathlessness, the heat pooling deep within his gut, the buzz of excitement that accompanies it all is just on the cusp of being too much and not enough.
“Danse,” Nate groans in a raspy tone, and when Danse meets his gaze, Nate suddenly finds it very hard to breathe. “God, I need to be inside of you right now.”
“That impatience of yours,” Danse responds slowly-- god his voice is no better than Nate’s-- as he pulls back, reaching behind him to grab something- a bundle of fabric that Nate recognizes as his shirt- to wipe his fingers clean, “is going to get you killed in battle one day.”
“Hasn’t killed me so far.”
“What a miracle that is.”
Nate snorts, watching as Danse grabs the small bottle once again, pouring an adequate amount onto his palm. It’s cold and slick, and the feeling of it makes Nate jerk in surprise as Danse coats him with it.
“Easy, big guy,” teases Nate as Danse begins to lower himself down. “Take it nice and slow. Don’t wanna hurt yourself too bad on your first rodeo.” But even he has a hard time following his own advice when the tip of his cock is flush against the heat of Danse’s entrance. It takes everything within him not to just thrust up, impale Danse on his dick and show him the time of his goddamn life, and it only gets worse when Danse begins the slow descent to seat himself on Nate’s thighs. His head swims, mind blanking as the world narrows, honing in on that delicious heat, and neither he nor Danse can stifle their groans as he bottoms out.
Fuck, he forgot how great that felt.
A particularly heavy exhale brings his attention to the man above him and, once again, Nate takes a second to revel in the sight before him.
Danse’s face is flushed, eyes squeezed closed and lips parted, hands pressed against Nate’s chest. His fingernails dig into Nate’s skin slightly, leaving a delicious burn that, paired with the rhythmic feeling of Danse’s body slowly adjusting to Nate’s size, is nearly enough to knock Nate over the edge.
Nate’s fingers flex above his head as he finds himself desperately wanting to grab onto Danse’s hips, pull him closer just to savor the feeling. It takes a few seconds, maybe a full minute, for Danse to finally start shifting, just barely, but it’s enough to make both of them take in a breath. Nate’s hips buck, a slight twitch that rocks Danse slightly and drags a low moan from his lips, and Nate hisses as Danse claws at his chest again.
“Easy.”
“I--” gasps Danse, brows knitting further, as if he’s having a hard time trying to talk while being so full. “I’m sorr-rhh-- fuck--”
It really takes everything within Nate not to just start moving, but the thought of jostling Danse to the point where he gets off of Nate’s dick is unappealing enough to keep his hips still.
He knows his dick’s a little bigger than average, so the fact that Danse was even able to take all of him on the first go is pretty spectacular in his opinion, but he doesn’t wanna hurt the guy, and the only way to avoid that is through patience.
(Too bad Nate’s patience is a short fuse, and it’s nearing its end.)
It takes less time for Danse to start moving again, and when he finally does, he doesn’t stop. It’s slow- a very, very slow rise and fall of his hips, but it’s movement, and it’s good all the same.
As he grows more confident in his movements, his movements grow in speed, and soon it’s all Nate can do to keep from coming right then and there, relaxing against the feeling and letting it overtake him in full.
Danse shifts, one of his hands coming to rest against one of Nate’s thighs, and he stutters to a stop, a choked-off noise tumbling into the dusty air around them. Nate doesn’t let him stop, rocking his hips up and driving into that tight heat, and they groan in unison.
“God, fuck yeah,” rips itself from Nate’s throat as he sets a steady pace, thoroughly fucking up into Danse and punching soft little intoxicating noises out of him that Nate needs to hear more of. He can’t angle himself properly without the proper leverage, but he realizes rather quickly that he doesn’t have to.
Danse presses his palms against Nate’s knees, leans his weight back and rides, and Nate’s head drops.
The pace is, in a word, brutal, and it will no doubt hinder Danse’s ability to walk once everything is said and done, but it feels amazing, even as Danse claws into the knees.
Danse pushes himself down onto Nate’s cock at the same time that Nate thrusts up a little harder than intended, the sudden burst pleasure sending sparks across Nate’s eyes and causing Danse’s head to fall back, and he moans, loud enough that Rhys and Haylen most definitely heard it from wherever they are on the perimeter. He brings one hand up immediately to cover his mouth- and half his face- but Nate growls under his breath and pushes up again, reveling as Danse whimpers behind his palm.
“Don’t,” Nate snarls, wanting so desperately to reach up and pin Danse’s arms to his sides, drive into him until the only noise coming out of his mouth are breathless moans of Nate’s name. “I wanna hear you.”
Danse glances down at him, brows contorted and eyes unfocused in ecstasy, but the look is clearly one in apprehension, so Nate bucks into him again a few times, smirking when it earns another sharp moan.
“You sound so good,” he chuckles, “moaning like that and at my mercy.”
The irony is not lost, and it earns a half-hearted glare, and Danse finally removes his hand, pressing it on Nate’s chest again and flicking a finger over one of his nipples.
(If Nate said that didn’t turn him on a little bit more, he’d be lying.)
“I do not wish for my subordinates to hear more than they have to,” Danse rasps, voice slightly strained and wobbly, and when their eyes meet, Nate realizes just how fucked-out he really looks.
And yet...
“If you’re still talking like that,” Nate hums, shifting his legs to press his feet down firmer on the concrete floor, “then you’re not as fucked-out as you should be.”
Danse has no time to respond before Nate uses the new-found leverage to thrust up harder, faster, deeper, and Danse scrambles, bringing his other hand to Nate’s chest and covering his mouth with the same as before, but that only muffles so much, even as he wraps his teeth around one of his fingers and bites, trying so hard to quell the noises spilling from him involuntarily.
That’s another thing Nate won’t let him do, though, because as Danse becomes like putty on top of him, it gives Nate enough wiggle room to angle himself properly, really buck up into him, and soon the pleasure becomes too much for his hand to suppress.
Two sets of fingernails dig into his ribs as Danse loses himself, and, by God, is it the most Goddamn attractive thing Nate’s ever seen in his life.
Danse goes from hunched and coiled over Nate’s chest to upright in a millisecond as a strangled gasp falls from his open lips, and he comes, so strong that some of it hits Nate’s face, and Nate follows quickly after, head falling against the concrete so hard he’s not sure if the stars he sees dancing behind his eyelids are from the orgasm or a possible concussion, and it’s only when he hears the sudden rattle of the jail cell behind him does he open his eyes.
His mistake.
Danse once again hunches over him, looking so thoroughly out of it, lips parted and eyes lidded, balanced with one arm on the metal bars that hold Nate captive, and fuck is he the most handsome motherfucker Nate’s ever seen in his life.
It’s a few seconds- seconds that Nate spends just… admiring- before Danse blinks a few times and meets his gaze.
“Nate,” he breathes, and Nate’s breath hitches, just barely.
“Danse,” he responds in turn, and absolutely does not miss the slight twitch at the corners of Danse’s lips.
“I have to admit,” Danse begins, pulling backwards and wincing, ever so slightly, as he settles against Nate, seeming rather comfortable for a guy who just got his brains fucked through his ass, “that was… a little more enjoyable than I initially thought it would be.”
Nate snorts, raising a brow at him. “Oh, really? You talked such a big game at the beginning of this- I thought you had it all handled!”
“You called my bluff,” Danse reminds him, reaching up to swipe a thumb across Nate’s chin. Most of the spunk comes off on Danse’s thumb, but Nate feels some of it get smeared across his skin. He grimaces, but Danse is too busy staring at his thumb to realize. He glances around, eyes landing on, once again, Nate’s shirt, and he leans over to get it as he continues with, “I haven’t done anything like that in my life, so I was, honestly, not very confident in my abilities to live up to my claims of giving you a good time, especially with you being… you know.”
He glances at Nate’s handcuffs, which Nate hit against the bars again with an unimpressed look.
Danse wipes his thumb off on Nate’s shirt and brings it down to wipe them both clean. “But I cannot make any more claims without your opinion. So, tell me, Initiate: how was that?”
Nate glares pointedly at his shirt as Danse continues to drag it across Nate’s skin, making sure every inch of the fabric is thoroughly coated in jizz and unable to be worn again without being washed. “It wasn’t bad,” Nate answers, and it’s no surprise that it’s an honest response. “I don’t know if it’s enough to make me stay with the Brotherhood, but it’s definitely something to consider.”
Danse’s eyes flick to his own, and Nate cocks his brow once more. He looks surprised, which is weird, because Nate’s further attendance with the Brotherhood was the whole point behind this mess in the first place. Nate assumed he would be happy to hear about Nate’s supposed reconsideration-- he must be a little more self-conscious than Nate initially thought.
Nate bites back the grin threatening to break through and pulls his eyes up and to the left, letting out a small hum. “But I can’t guarantee anything. Ah, well. This was fun, Danse, but I really do believe I should be going now.”
Danse stares at him until Nate’s forced to make eye contact again, but his face is unreadable, even as he uses Nate’s legs to stand, and Nate can’t help how his dick twitches in interest when a little bit of his come begins sliding down Danse’s thigh as he walks a few steps away to grab his uniform.
Nate rolls his neck out and pulls on the handcuffs again, glancing at Danse again and watching in unsurprised horror as Danse cleans himself up with- you guessed it- Nate’s shirt before discarding it on the ground and pulling on his boxer-briefs.
Nate clears his throat and jingles the handcuffs some more. “Could you get me outta these things? My wrists are numb.”
Danse ignores him for a solid minute- the length of time it takes him to get his uniform back on- before he sniffs and looks at Nate from the corner of his eye. “I doubt the keys are still around, and if they are, they are most likely lost in all the debris and destruction.”
Nate blinks at him, countenance slowly fading from confusion to horror. “Please tell me you’re joking.” Danse doesn’t respond, and Nate yanks on the cuffs. The damn things are 200 years old, they can’t be that durable. After a few tries with no results, Nate strains to give the man above him a pleading look. “Danse!”
“It seems that you won’t be leaving the station as intended.”
“Danse, I swear to-- hey, wait!”
Danse ignores him and simply walks out of the room. Nate growls and continues to fight his way out, all attempts futile and it’s beginning to piss him off.
“At least give me a damn bobby pin! Danse!”